


Just Good Friends

by SarcasmFish (Alcyonidae)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Affection, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Romance, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcyonidae/pseuds/SarcasmFish
Summary: Cullen and the Inquisitor spend a night together working on Inquisition matters, but late nights draw off the conscience and evoke an affection the stark light of day would burn away.





	Just Good Friends

_Good friends,_ she reminded herself again.  _They were just good friends._

She was sitting on the small couch in her room, leaned back against the arm with her legs tucked beneath her.  Cullen sat on the plush rug before the couch, reclined against the arm for support.  Reports, maps, and inventories of troop numbers were neatly arranged around him on the floor.

It was late and he was down to his shirtsleeves.  The commander had long since shrugged off the fur mantle and armor despite the chill that lingered through the room.

There was a missive going unread in her hands.  A similar stack of papers sat on the other side of the couch, waiting with guilty presence for her attention.

She had been watching Cullen instead of completing her work.

He was intent.  The cuffs of his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms.  They had not actually spoken to each other for several hours.  She watched him pluck two papers from a stack to compare, scribble something on one, and then return them to different piles.  Sometimes he merely signed his name, a large looping but neat signature, and then stacked the paper off to the side.

He reached for a different map that lay in a roll a few feet from him.  The muscles in his back were easy to watch through the light shirt and Talia found herself ducking behind the missive in her hand, only her eyes peeking over the top, despite the fact that his back was to her.  He leaned back against the couch again with a weary sigh, his shoulder resting against her knees as he unfurled the map.

The touch jolted her from her reverie, but she did not move away.  She was almost ashamed at what a thrill the little contact sent through her.  It felt like such a high honor that he had deemed her and her alone worthy of such close company.  Well, she thought it was her and her alone, but she was often gone for great swaths of time, so…

_Silly, childish thoughts,_ her mind chided.  _Stop this at once.  He’s the commander of your armies and you are leader of the Inquisition, not a girl and not a lady to be courted.  You haven’t been a lady to be courted for over a decade!_

Despite the bullying from the wiser parts of her conscience her heart hurt.  It was nice to fantasize being something special to someone dear.  And not so nice to be reminded of the harsh truths of reality.

“Cullen?” she called, voice soft in the old silence surrounding them and sounding far too wounded for the feared, powerful leader she was supposed to be.

Despite his fierce focus he turned his head to her at once.

“What's wrong?”

The dim firelight made his eyes seem molten and far too filled with concern.  It only served to do further damage to her thumping heart.  She cursed the weakness and worked to put something of a smirk on her lips.

“It’s getting late.”

He returned the smirk and the chill in the room disappeared.  That twist to his lips and cant of the scar above them did other things to her heart.

“If you’re trying to get rid of me, Inquisitor, you need only say.”

“Is that all it takes?” she replied coyly.

“I’m not one to disobey a lady who could set fire to me.”

“Hmm, according to the novel Cassandra lent me, the knight should fight for his lady to show his true conviction for her.”

“But what would it look like to my men if you had the guards throw me from your room?”

He flashed such a roguish grin at her she could not help but laugh.  He joined her and before she could school herself she reached out to ruffle the crown of his hair.  She jerked back her hand after the impulse.  He spent such time and care on his appearance.  Instead of chastising her he seemed to only laugh harder.

The late time and stress fueled the giggles that broke through the two, rendering them a tearful mess of laughter.  When the silly mood subsided into mutual grins Cullen swept the heels of his hands over his eyes and then turned back to his paperwork.

“Let me finish these last orders and then I will retire.”

She bobbed her head in a little nod he could not see and attempted to return her wandering attention to the paper still clutched in her hand.

Her attention did not last long.  The dimming firelight and weariness that tugged at her eyes lulled her into that vulnerable loneliness again.

She drifted from the stale paper to the back of Cullen’s head.  He was holding the map in outstretched arms again.  The locks of his hair had long escaped the rigid confines he had sculpted them into that morning, but her ruffling had served to severely agitate them.  The product he had used now assisted the rebellious tresses in standing and twisting at odd angles.  A few of them had arranged themselves into a little horns like that of a young Quinari.  It made her smile.  He looked so youthful and free from the burdens that any other time dug into his shoulders.

He had leaned further into the edge of the couch, the back of his shoulders now almost flush with her shins.  She was entranced with the warmth and closeness of him and before her rational mind could catch her she found herself reaching out to smooth down the stray hairs atop his head.

She felt Cullen freeze, watched as his shoulders stiffened and she immediately yanked her traitorous hand away.

Her mind was already roiling with admonishments for her impulsive and stupid act when he spoke.

“You didn’t have to stop.”  His voice was soft, not in the usual kind way he spoke to her, but tentative and unsure, something so rare to hear from the commander of armies.

He did not turn his head from the map, but she could tell he was bracing himself.  Was he waiting for her to dismiss him?  To mock him?  To harm him?

She reached out again, willing her fingers not to tremble as they brushed over his hair again.  Though she could feel the remnant of whatever wax he used to tame his curls in the morning his hair was soft against her palm.  The strands coiled around her fingers and tickled against her skin.

The tension held so taught in Cullen’s shoulders ebbed out and encouraged boldness in her.  She let her fingers fall deeper into his mane, weaving through the curls with each gentle stroke of her hand.

The map in his hands drooped, his head tilting back toward her.  Though he faced away from her, she suspected his eyes might have slipped closed.

“That feels divine,” he rumbled, his voice a gravely octave that warmed her blood.  “But I’ll never finish if you continue.”

Her hand paused its journey at the nape of his neck.

“Did you want me to stop?”

“Maker, no,” he breathed without hesitation.

She continued to card her fingers through his hair, her movements slow and lazy.  At one point she grew braver and turned the blunt tips of her fingernails to drag along his scalp and Talia could have sworn the groan he elicited almost set her on fire.

The candlelight around them grew dim and some began to gutter in their holders.  Her rhythmic strokes through his hair began to falter as the room around her became woolen, the colors muted in growing darkness.  Her eyes burned and blinking became a chore, her lids now weighing more than she could easily lift.

At some point she must have lost the battle to sleep for when she woke Cullen had arranged his work into a neat stack, ready for transport.  He was standing, looking a bit uncertain as to what his next step would be.  When she turned her bleary gaze up to him he crouched in front of her, resting a light hand upon her knee.

“It’s rather late.”  His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he were still afraid of waking her.  “We should get some rest.”

She felt a panic crawl through her, an irrational thing that clawed at her chest.  He was leaving.

“I should help you carry all of that back to your room.”

He scooped the maps and documents up into an arm as she stood, a private smile on his lips.

“Thank you, but I will manage.”  He looked her over a moment and she felt herself almost shrink under his bronze gaze.  “You need rest and soon it will be morning.”

She nodded her understanding, but felt her shoulders slump.

Cullen stood before her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  She had expected him to leave without another word, but it seemed there was more he was fighting to say.  She peered up at him, willing him to speak his mind, even if a dismissal of the intimacy they had just shared would squash the warm bubble within her.

Instead of speaking he reached out to her with his free hand.  It hung in the air a moment as if he were gathering his courage before his fingers met the fine hairs at her temple.  He combed through her hair, around the shell of her ear and down over the stands that fell just past her shoulder.  His eyes followed his fingers.  They were distant and full of wonder, as if he had laid his hands upon fire and not been burned.

He looked back to meet her, his fingers still twirled within the ends of her hair.  She watched him swallow, watched him try to gather and arrange his words before he could speak them.

“Tomorrow,” he was watching her lips as he spoke.  “Allow me to return the kindness?”

Words and thoughts were becoming wisps of smoke, eluding her grasp with each attempt.  She merely nodded, unwilling to trust that coherent words would form at her lips.

The smile Cullen wore as he loosed his fingers from her hair was generous and peaceful.  His eyes remained on her until he made the turn to descend the stairs from her room.

When the door closed behind him she finally let go of the breath she had been holding.

_Just good friends?_


End file.
